Like a Phoenix, We Will Be Reborn
by HedaBeka
Summary: Only 37 of the 100 are still alive. After failing to fall back into place with the adults at the Ark, the teenagers split ways and return to the drop ship. But they are not the same kids that fell from space three months ago, and they aren't taking the death of their friends well. But with a little alcohol and therapeutic confessions, they may just become something better.


**I received two requests on my tumblr I-mthebadguy, and decided to mesh them together. Mood does get lighter as it goes!**

**Enjoy! And Requests are opennnn!**

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It has been two months since the war with Mount Weather. Two months since the last trace of innocence was shattered by the sight of nearly three hundred innocent people crawling in the corridors of Mount Weather, their flesh burning and bubbling as radiation seeped into their bones and trashed their bodies. It hadn't been expected; it hadn't been wanted. But it had been the last chance Clarke had to get her people back. She was mostly successful. 37 of the original 100 had survived the war, and the mountain. It was a meager victory, but a victory nonetheless. A victory that still weighed heavily on their shoulders as the group left behind Camp Jaha a month later.

None of them had been able to settle into the medial jobs distributed, and the constant disturbance caused by being away from each other was hard to surpass. They could hardly bear an hour apart from one of their friends, and were often found to take punishments because they had abandoned their work to run off in search of a friend they hadn't seen in a while. The fear was too thick, it churned too roughly in their stomachs and anxiety attacks had become a common occurrence. It hadn't been long before the doctors chose to assess the delinquents, and confirmed that the majority of the mass were displaying symptoms of post traumatic stress disorder. The anxiety, the random fits of aggression, the dark circles ringing their eyes from insomnia, the fear of separation, the hypervigilance, etc. It all pointed to PTSD. They had tried to fit in; they had tried to evolve back into carefree teenagers. It didn't work. It was too late for that.

It has now been one month since those 37 troubled souls took refuge back in their old camp. The camp walls had been burnt to a crisp and the ground was covered in soot and skeletons, but the group got to work immediately to restore their home. The soot took some time to get cleared and the walls of the dropship were still stained from the flame's tongue, but with each day the charred land began to feel like home again. The tension in their shoulders slowly loosened, and lips began to crinkle at the edges as they finished up the walls and set to building more permanent structures. The walls were stronger and taller than ever, and the undergrowth surrounding the tunnels was situated to better conceal the entrances. The small cabins held strong against the brutal storms that battered the region, and the group was back into it's old routine.

The workload worked well as a distraction. The survivor's guilt that had been quick to settle into their bones and weigh them down had begun to give them some slack. More of them were able to get sleep, and even though it was riddled with nightmares that woke them in a fit of cold sweats it was sleep nonetheless. The dark circles beneath their eyes became less prominent and the group started to eat normal portions. The light was still gone from their eyes, but their lips ghosted small smiles as they settled into their new lives in their old home. The anxiety attacks simmered down and soon they were all able to stare into the pit of a fire without flinching. The original war had been the root of their troubles, and even after the horrors of bone marrow treatments and radiation burns they had been wary of approaching a bonfire. This had proven to be increasingly difficult when the group had to cook up a meal or heat themselves up in the bitter weather, but they pulled through with due time.

The delinquents pushed down their nightmares as they huddled around the crackling flame, hands out to take in the heat before curling their fists against their stomachs. It wasn't until the tin cups were distributed and Monty's new still was tapped into that the crew began to relax around the fire. Alcohol burned their throats and fogged their heads, laying a blanket over the nightmares that had implanted themselves there. Smiles peeked up on their lips and short chuckles bent the fragile air as the group began to settle into a steady train of conversation. The portions were meager, but it was all in good sense to avoid clouding their heads too much when their emotions were on the verge of turmoil. Hours passed and they fell into clusters, laughter bubbling up from one direction while quiet crying surfaced from another. The alcohol seemed to bring both sides out of the group, but never settled in on one mood as the camp appeared to contain a pit of moody teens. _How fitting._

One familiar cluster formed closer to the dropship: Clarke, Bellamy, Miller, Octavia, Raven, Murphy, Monty, Jasper, Monroe, and Harper. They made up one of the larger groups, and they also made up one of the closest groups. Despite the differences over the few months that they had been present on the ground, this bunch of teens had grown to seek shelter in each other. Clarke swore she had seen Octavia comfort a distressed Murphy once; Meanwhile, Harper could easily recall multiple occasions where she had peeked into the leader's hut to ask about a hunt only to find Bellamy and Clarke huddled on the bed with their heads close as they spoke in hushed voices. The latter of the two seemed more likely to of been misinterpreted, but the bond that had been formed was clearly visible. But it was also visible to them that they were all still tense, their shoulders hunched forward as their empty cups twitched in their grasps.

"Err-" Octavia had been quiet like the rest, but even in her own state of despair she had managed to keep her words loose. "Maybe we should play a game?" The question hung in the air as the group sent short glances at each other, never locking eyes in fear of snapping. "To help loosen up?" It was a good premise, but it was also very unlikely to do much good for the downtrodden souls. Still, the small group found their heads bobbing slowly after shifting in their seats underneath the unsure stares of their friends. "Okay, but first we need more drinks!" And the little brunette was off to the still, her movements less rigid after having drank two portions of the liquid.

Alcohol was distributed and the group huddled in a closer group as they bumped knees and sent shy smiles towards whoever they had knocked into. The game was called Never Have I Ever. The premise was to say something you have never done and if someone in the group had done it, then that person would have to take a sip of their drink. A sip was all that was required, but they doubted it would be followed after having had to refill their drinks halfway during the game's explanation.

The game started off easily enough. Things along the lines of "Never have I ever had a sibling" and "Never have I ever had grounder braids" and "Never have I ever worn a beanie". But as the alcohol began to settle into their bodies, the innocent statements began to sharpen it's edges and the group felt their guts clench with each intake of breath. There were hidden meanings behind each question, no matter how innocent. "Never have I ever eaten cake" translated to never having been held hostage in a place where the people drilled them for bone marrow. "Never have I ever led" translated to never having to make the decision to mass-kill to avoid allowing your people to be killed. "Never have I ever had my heart broken" was translated to never have I ever killed my boyfriend and never have I ever lost my girlfriend to radiation and never have I ever lost my grounder boyfriend to a war. No one had expected to lose Lincoln, and it had crushed Octavia for some time. Maya had been expected, but none of them could wipe away the sight of her body stilling on the floor after wreathing around in a fit of screams for five minutes. Two months hadn't been enough to fight off the memory. No time would be able to rid of it.

A shudder rippled through the group. Murphy felt like his skin was crawling, and Raven could feel a sharp jab in her lower back where she had been shot. Each of them hunched over in their own pain as the game quieted down to bitter curls of the lip as they sucked at the liquid in their cups without a single thought of how it still tasted like battery acid. Jasper and Monty had been experimenting with it to alter the flavor, but it had been put on the backburner after it became obvious that parties would be a rare occasion. It wasn't long before they had all refilled their cups for the fourth time and were gnawing at their lips in anticipation for the next player to respond.

"Twice have I ever pulled a lever that killed hundreds of lives." The voice sent a chill down all of their spines as the group raised their eyes to meet Clarke's. They were crisp with tears, but her face was planted firmly in a state of neutrality. She sucked in a shuddering breath and continued hastily, "Once have I ever failed to warn of a missile attack." The group could see as her walls collapsed in on her and tremors ravaged her body. But she felt something. Clarke could feel the weight slowly lifting even as the pain of the truth sucked out her breath and urged her tears to stream down her cheeks. Her breath was shaky and tears were slipping freely down her cheeks, but she held her head up as she looked pleadingly towards her friends. She hoped they would take the hint and continue on. None of them had spoken much about everything that had happened to them, and it was a wonder as to why they hadn't tried it out.

What was happening kicked in fast and it was Murphy that spoke next, his eyes situated on the dirt as he muttered, "Once have I ever tried to hang someone." The words were quiet and broken. The majority of the group stiffened, but Bellamy remained the same as he took a gulp of his drink. He bit back the desire to wrinkle his face in response to the battery acid taste licking down his throat, but just sighed as he raised his hand to rub at his face tiredly.

"Once have I ever strangled a man to death, and then met his little boy right after." Bellamy's voice was strained and his fingers were curled tightly around his tin cup, but he held in the urge to spew up his meal. "Once have I ever executed people to save a friend, and then lost that friend." He could feel his throat tightening around the words, but his muscles were loosening up slowly. A strangled sigh crept past his lips as he wrapped his arm around Clarke's shoulders and tugged her into his side, resting his chin atop her blonde curls. His eyes searched those of his companions in a plea to continue, urging them to smash their walls down for a moment.

"Twice have I ever threatened to slice a man's throat." Octavia. A thin-lined smile was planted firmly on her lips as she glanced over towards her brother, not surprised to see a mixture of pride and shock on his face. She lifted her shoulders slightly and dropped them back down before running a hand through her hair. The braids were barely even present anymore. The grounder getup had been more fitting, but after losing Lincoln the two things were revealed to be too closely linked together.

They all began to fall apart as the game drew on. It was no longer a game and more like a therapy session where they all reveled in the horrors they all took part in. Some of which hadn't been known until that dreadful moment that they bit down on their lip, sucked in a breath and released the news of their treachery. Was it treachery? It was hard to say because they were doing it all to save their people and not just to hurt people. It was an act of justice. But it had felt so wrong, and still did. Why did everything they do cling to their shoulders with an iron pinch that not only clutched at their pressure points, but drew them to the ground in a heaping pile of tears and misery.

"Once have I ever watched my best friend fall off a cliff." The group turned in their seats to watch Monroe, who had been quiet throughout the majority of the game. After returning to the drop ship, Monroe had become quieter than usual. Given she was already one to keep to herself, her sudden isolation had frightened them to the extent that they had moved her into a busy tent so enough people could keep an eye on her.

Miller settled a hand on the girl's shoulder before turning his eyes towards the others, "Once have I ever strangled someone with handcuff chains." His voice was gravelly, per usual, as he rolled his shoulders back with a huff. "Once have I ever happily watched a woman die of radiation." He continued with tight lips, his eyes flicking quickly between his friends as he fidgeted under their gazes. Monty, Jasper, and Harper were all looking away from him. A harsh laugh bent Harper over as she pawed at her cheeks to wipe away the tears.

"That bitch deserved it. We shouldn't feel bad about that." It took a moment, but soon the whole group was bobbing their heads and letting short chuckles free. "This is ridiculous. Why are we moping over all of this?" The chuckles paused on their lips and the majority of the group fidgeted in their seats. "What's done is done. We need-" Harper paused to furiously rub away the tears as she choked on a laugh, "We need to stop this. Being depressed. Blaming ourselves." She held her arms out and waved them as she gestured towards the other groups huddled not too far away from them. "It's not going to change anything. And it's exhausting!" As if on cue, she hunched over her knees and placed her face in her hands. Her upper body was shaking and her head was weaving from side to side, face still cupped in her palms.

"Pathetic is more like it." Their eyes shifted over onto Murphy, who was currently cutting into a chunk of wood with his knife. His eyes lifted long enough for them to spot the sudden stroke of fear that crackled within them. None of them knew what had happened out there in the dead zone. Some say he had murdered his whole group. Others believed he had just been lucky enough to survive the trip back alone. Either way, they had wiped his slate clean and greeted him like any other delinquent. Raven and Monty had even crashed into him on his arrival, yanking him into a group hug that froze him in place. He had hardly raised a hand to pat on their backs, but that response hadn't even been expected. The two were just excited to see they hadn't lost everyone and it wasn't like the kid hadn't been a part of them. It was their fault he had lashed out, and if he had been willing to remain with them, then they could wedge him back into the gang.

"Hey, it isn't like we all weren't thinking it. We've been working our asses off every day just to avoid it all. Even I can see that." He cut away a chip of wood and glanced back up with a sad smile, "After everything, we deserve more than this. So what if we have more blood on our hands than inside of us." His eyes had trailed back down to the wood in his hands and he twirled the knife as he cut into it. "We did what we needed to survive." He could feel the stares on him and he set the wood down for a moment to take a large swallow of alcohol. He bit the inside of his cheek as he curled his lip at the taste, breaking the silence with a sharp huff. He picked the wood back up and worked at it for another moment before raising his voice, "Isn't this where you chip in with a motivational speech, Bellamy?"

Quiet laughter circulated through the group. The tension had lessened in their backs and they felt themselves tilting over as a few of them found themselves leaning onto another. A sigh trickled free from them as they collectively stared at Murphy. He met their gaze with a quirk of an eyebrow and the upward twitch of his mouth, but remained silent.

"I think you're the motivational speaker now, Murph." Jasper had stood up to clap a hand on his back, "Come on, keep going."

Murphy sent a wryly grin his way before smoothing his fingers over the wood in his hand. He turned it over a few times before holding it out to allow the group to take his work in. It was a bird with large wings that furled out sharply. It didn't have too much detail, but the sharp edges and the separated curls of a tail feather seemed familiar to a few of them. "Bellamy, you like mythology right?" He didn't wait for an answer as he turned the bird in his hand, "We became something different, something dark to survive. But now. Here-" He nodded towards the drop ship before lowering his gaze towards his friends? Yes, friends. He trusted them now and they had learned to trust him. "Here, we can start over again. We can be reborn." He nodded down towards the bird and felt heat creeping up his throat and into his cheeks as he placed the bird in the middle of their circle. He could see it all clicking in their eyes as they fixed their gazes on the wooden bird.

"We built this place back up. Now, we just need to build ourselves back up." The blush was deepening as he looked down with a small smile. They were all looking at him with a bit of awe now. It wasn't often that he was the most hopeful of the bunch. He took a deep breath and looked back up through his eyelashes. He was afraid to continue, but he knew he needed to keep going before the light dimmed from their eyes. They couldn't lose hope again.

"We are Phoenixes." He nodded towards the wooden bird with a crooked smile. "We picked ourselves up out of the ashes, so now all we have to do is build ourselves back up. Build ourselves up to be better. And then-" He took a moment to slosh the alcohol around in his cup, "And then maybe we can have a party without crying." Quiet laughter escaped the group as they took their turn in examining the wooden bird. To all of their surprise, it was Monroe who rose to her feet and snatched up the bird. Her eyes grazed over the wings of the small statue as she sat back into her seat, a small smile lapping at her lips. And in that moment, they all felt the same words crackling on their lips. They all felt the same pinch of hope lock a hold on their hearts. And they all raised their chins to chant together between laughs.

"We are Phoenixes and we will be reborn!"


End file.
